


Scars

by DarylDixonPaulRovia



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 06:11:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10691361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarylDixonPaulRovia/pseuds/DarylDixonPaulRovia
Summary: A small conversation between Daryl and Paul a few days after Daryl's escape from The Sanctuary.





	Scars

**Author's Note:**

> *mention of Paul's past physical abuse

Daryl isn't the only one with scars, and Daryl knows a cigarette burn when he sees one. 

It doesn't shock him, not exactly. He's not surprised that someone as good as Paul has been treated like shit at least once in his life. No, it's the bone deep, burning rage that someone dared to hurt him that's making Daryl's hands shake.

"Daryl? I said can you pass me that shirt? The blue one." 

Paul steps away from his bed and frowns, taking in Daryl's tense position in the doorway. He watches the way Daryl's eyes drop to his bare chest and fix on something.

"Oh." Jesus unconsciously touches the second burn mark on his ribs. "You noticed."

"M'sorry... I wasn't looking."

Daryl turns to leave but Paul is quick and stops him with a hand on his arm. He breaks the contact quickly, knowing that Daryl is jumpy about people who aren't his family touching him. Only a few days have passed since they retuned from The Sanctuary, and Daryl's head seems to still be in that cell most of the time.

"It was one of my last foster homes, before I was permanently placed in a group home." 

Paul's eyes are clear, no hint of distress in them, so Daryl nods and stays where he is while Paul finishes dressing.

"I was a bit of a brat back then."

"You didn't deserve that," Daryl replies, his voice still quiet but there's anger resting just below the surface. 

"No, I didn't." Paul slips into his shirt, neither embarrassed or ashamed by Daryl seeing the scars. In fact, he's quite pleased. Maybe it'll help Daryl open up about his own. Paul would like it to be him that Daryl confided in, but if Daryl talked to anyone it'd be a huge step for him.

"Who did it?" Daryl looks mortified that he asked such a personal question. "You don't... I shouldn't have..."

"It's fine, honestly." 

Paul buttons up his shirt and sits down on the bed. He keeps his eyes on Daryl, showing him more than telling him that he doesn't mind having this conversation. After a while, Daryl walks over and sits on the end of the bed.

"It was my foster brother. His name was Nick, and I knew he resented me the second I walked in the house. I'd been really looking forward to having a sort of brother. It was before I realised that I wasn't ever going to get a real family, so I was still naive about the system."

Paul turns and lifts one knee onto the mattress to better face Daryl.

"The first time he did it I was sleeping. I don't think he even smoked so he must have got it from one of his friends."

"Was he older than you?" Daryl asks, keeping his hands clenched in his lap.

"Yeah, a few years. I was ten, maybe eleven."

"Prick."

"Yeah, he was. I mean, he was jealous, I guess. Thinking I was going to take his parents from him. It would have been nice to have a brother though." Paul shrugs and blows a breath out from pursed lips.

"Not if he was like that asshole." Daryl doesn't mention Merle, but Paul can tell he's thinking about him.

"The next time he did it I broke his wrist."

Daryl's eyes widen and the ghost of a smile almost erases the haunted look that now lingers on his features. Paul lifts his hand in the air and then lowers it over Daryl's fist. To his surprise, Daryl doesn't flinch or move away, he just watches curiously.

"I just bent it back," Paul says, spreading Daryl's hand flat and pushing it back, although not with any force at all, just to demonstrate. "Then twisted. I still remember the look on his face."

Paul straightens Daryl's hand, running his fingertips between his knuckles and down over his fingers.

"It wasn't until a year or two later that I realised that he probably wanted me to hurt him back. I was sent away a few days later."

"M'sorry."

Breaking contact between them, Paul smiles softly.

"Thanks for listening. It helps talking to someone who understands."

Meeting Paul's eyes again, Daryl nods, but doesn't say anything else. Paul gets it, and maybe one day Daryl will want to confide in him, but right now Paul only has one thing on his mind.

"Didn't you say something about breakfast before?"

Daryl nods and gets to his feet and he's by the door in a second. Paul doesn't even have his boots on yet. 

"You don't have to wait for me. I'll be there in a minute."

Paul pulls on his boots and starts to tie them, but Daryl stays where he is, in his role of propping up the door. His hair has fallen over his eyes and he's looking down at the floor, scuffing his boot against the thin carpet.

"I'll wait."

**Author's Note:**

> First go at a Daryl/Paul fic :)


End file.
